The Downside of Snooping
by don't-tell-me-not-to-live
Summary: Marissa Benson wasn't a snoop. No sir. She was just a...a checker. EDITED.


**The Downside of Snooping**

Marissa Abigail Benson was no idiot. She graduated at the top of her class with a medical Ph. D and was now a successful nurse at Washington's best hospital. She had enough common sense to divorce her husband before he dumped her for his barely legal assistant. And she knew better then to let her son run around the streets of Seattle, unvaccinated and unprotected.

But now Marissa Benson, recognized nurse and self-proclaimed wondermom, didn't know what to think. Standing there, in her spotless laundry room, holding a pair of her Freddie's dirty pants, left her speechless. It wasn't the piece of clothing that shocked her; Freddie had long ago convinced her to let him switch from khakis to jeans, even though she still thought it made him look like those common-street thugs she tended to at work. No, it was what she found hidden in said jeans, folded and stuffed into the smallest corner of the front pocket.

Marissa had made it a habit to check all pockets and crevices of Freddie's clothes as soon as he took them off, looking for anything that her son might have forgotten to take out. The other moms tsked at her, saying that she was invading her son's privacy, but she disagreed; whatever Freddie left in his pockets were things he _wanted_ her to see. And besides, she was merely just checking to make sure that he hadn't left anything that could damage her immaculate, brand-new washing machine that she had bought two years ago. It wasn't like Freddie would have something to hide because he truly was a perfect, _perfect _ child. But Marissa never told her son about her snooping- er, _checking_, thinking that he would feel embarrassed that he had been careless enough to leave things in his pockets. And the last thing she would want to do to Freddie is embarrass him.

But when she pulled out the mysterious object found in his jeans, it took all of her strength not to march to over to her son's bedroom and demand an explanation.

She had found a note.

And it wasn't the kind of note she expected from Freddie. She expected notes containing knowledge, notes of the things he had learned at school that day, or notes that held lists of facts and trivia. She expected notes about upcoming tests and assignments he had to study for, notes about important reminders he had to remember.

But this was not any of those kinds of notes.

This was a _note_ note.

With shaking hands, she unfolded the piece of paper, her eyes immediately drawn to the words scrawled on the page.

ugh, this class is soooooo boring.

Marissa relaxed slightly. This wasn't her Freddikin's handwriting. It was much too messy and hard to read. And Freddie would _never_ call class 'boring'. Freddie loved school.

i kno, rite? god, mrs. briggs srsly needs to shut the hell up.

She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. That was _definitely _ Freddie's writing. She had memorized his script, just in case she ever needed to identify something written by him for the police or detectives. But she didn't understand. _Her_ Freddie wouldn't use profane language. _Her _Freddie wouldn't say something so foul about someone as sweet as Mafalda Briggs. _Her_ Freddie wouldn't be so lazy as to misspell words like 'know' and 'right' incorrectly. This couldn't be her son's work. Someone must have framed him. Besides, what in the world did 'srsly' mean? She doubted Freddie even knew. He was taught by Marissa herself to never succumb to the growing fad of 'text talk'. It seemed so… abbreviated to her.

Omg, YES. she keeps runnin her mouth a mile a fuckin minute . even carly's havin trouble keepin up. Not that this is a prob for u tho, rite mr. benson?

Mr. Benson? _Mr. Benson?_ There was no way for Marissa to deny it now. Freddie had been a part of this. She willed herself to keep breathing as she exited her laundry room and sat on the plastic covered couch in her living room, her eyes never leaving the note.

course its no prob. not lyk i didn't kno all this shit before today. i swear even u could b a bettr teachr than briggs.

dude, i should lyk totally overhaul her class 1 day. just force her out the door and lock her out, u kno wut i mean? that would be INSANE.

that day would b EPIC. lyk, srsly. it would go down in ridgeway history. u should so do it. i dare u.

n wut would happen if i DID do it?

u kno wut would happen, baby.

Marissa felt herself grimace in disgust. Why was Freddie _encouraging_ this kind of rambunctious behavior? This was incredibly uncharacteristic of him. And who was he calling _baby_? Was he dating someone? Did he have a girlfriend? Oh, good heavens – was Freddie having _intercourse_?

hmm, i lyk the sound of that. but wut if i DIDNT?

if u don't go thru with it, then…. i get to try out that position u didn't wanna do last thursday.

ooh…kinky… mama lyks…

Oh. My. Marissa was about to pass out. Her Freddie, having sexual relations… and he didn't even _tell_ her? Oh, where did she go wrong? And who was this girl? Who in the world would corrupt her darling son like this? It wasn't Carly- the note said that she was taking notes (bless her heart). And Marissa didn't know of any other girl Freddie was friends with. Could it be?... oh no… not _her…_

only for u, princess. So wuts it gonna b? u gonna do it or not?

i'll tell u my final answer after scool. groovysmooth date at 5?

sure. i love u, sam.

love u too, freddie.

Marissa looked at her watch. 4: 58.

"Mom! I'm going to the Groovy Smoothie!"

She paled at the sound of Freddie's voice, and before she could even hide the note behind her back, she fainted.

Maybe she should stop snooping from now on.


End file.
